


The Nearness of You

by Polexia_Aphrodite



Series: Gone for Soldiers [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polexia_Aphrodite/pseuds/Polexia_Aphrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever she tries to pull away from them, whenever she tries to convince herself that they’re suffocating her, they just pull her closer, force her to understand how much she needs them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nearness of You

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I challenged myself to write my first PWP for these three, and this is what came out of it. As always, hope you like it.

As Natasha walks into Steve’s apartment, the first thing that hits her is the fact that it’s a hell of a lot warmer than the snowy, icy sidewalk she came in from. The apartment smells like cooking, and she follows the scent into the kitchen, where James and Steve are huddled together over the stove, talking in low tones.

“What’s going on in here?” She saunters towards them and looks over the stove at a pot of simmering meat and sauce. Her stomach rumbles uncontrollably.

James grins at her, “Ragù à la Signora Bonicatto.”

“Who?”

“Our neighbor back in the old days,” Steve provides, “Little old Italian lady. Great cook. Didn’t speak a word of English. Taught us everything she knew.”

“We even remembered some of it,” James grins even wider and waggles his eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

Natasha grunts and crosses her arms, “Is that so.” She knows whenever they launch themselves into this combined nostalgia, one of them will jerk awake sweaty and sobbing later.

Steve looks her over. When he spots the bruise along her temple, he gives her a look of concern that’s so damn sincere, it makes her skin crawl.

“What’s this?” He lifts a hand to brush away her hair, but she pulls back and shrugs it off.

“Stark’s testing new equipment.”

Bucky bristles, “Tony did that to you?”

“No,” she scowls, her back straightening, “Not on purpose, anyway.”

They exchange a look and she throws up her hands and storms off to the bathroom. The hardest thing to get used to in the year since she took up with Steve and the months since they invited James into their bed, has been the way they both insist on taking care of her. She’s still not used to it; she may never get used to it.

She takes a long time in the shower, letting the hot water and steam soften her aching muscles. When she emerges, wrapped in a terry-cloth robe, her skin slick with lotion and hair blow-dried, they stop her in the hall. Steve’s hand closes around her wrist and pulls her back down the way she came, into the bedroom, with Bucky following close behind. 

She should have known. Whenever she tries to pull away from them, whenever she tries to convince herself that they’re suffocating her, they just pull her closer, force her to understand how much she needs them.

“What about—“ she starts, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“It’ll wait,” James answers from behind her.

Bucky turns on the bedside lamp while Steve makes short work of his clothes, letting them land in a pile on the floor. He pushes her robe off her shoulders, his mouth moving down the column of her neck, making her shiver and her breath hitch. His skin, golden in the low light, is warm under her touch. Her hand slips between them, wraps around his cock, already rock-hard, and _pulls_. It takes everything Steve’s got to drag himself away from her and move to the bed.

Steve slides back on the mattress, his back against the headboard; he gestures towards Natasha, and she sits between his legs, her back to his chest, her knees spread as wide as his legs will allow. Steve brings his hands down; his fingers trace the inside of her thighs, and Natasha’s head drops back against the broad, solid shoulder behind her. 

For a long moment, all Bucky can do is look at them, because, even after all these months, just the sight of them is almost more than he can handle. The Winter Soldier had a well-earned reputation for seduction, but the two of them together have the uncanny power to render him speechless and stricken.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve says, his voice low and throaty, “Ain’t polite to make a lady wait.”

Bucky swallows and pulls his t-shirt over his head, shucks his pants off, and stretches across the bed. His arms slide under her thighs and his hands starfish on her hips, pulling her up to his mouth. Almost of their own volition, Natasha’s hands stretch out towards him, fingers pushing into his hair and winding around his where they’re digging into her hips. 

She squirms under his attentions, sighs and melts back against Steve. He’s filling his hands with her breasts; the sight of Bucky’s mouth between her legs makes his jaw go slack, makes him grind against the small of Natasha’s back just to find some relief, his cock leaking and staining the soft skin there.

Natasha tilts her face towards Steve’s, her breath hot against his cheek. “Hold me,” she whispers urgently, and he knows just what she wants. His arms, thick and heavy, wrap around her waist. The feeling of their hands and arms and lips on her, surrounding her, the feeling of these two men who she has loved most telling her that she’s enough for both of them, sets her skin alight and makes her hands tremble.

“I’ve got you,” Steve murmurs next to her ear, and it’s all over. Her every muscle contracts, her helpless whimpers echo off the walls, her heels dig into the mattress as James’ tongue coaxes her through it.

When her breathing slows again, Bucky shifts over her, over them both, his metal hand planted near Steve’s hip holding him up. With his other hand, he lines himself up and eases inside her. She gasps his name (his real name) as his fingers gently circle her clit. Bucky nuzzles the side of her neck, then pitches past her, his mouth crashing against Steve’s.

With his left arm still tight around Natasha’s ribcage, Steve brings his other hand to the back of Bucky’s head, his fingers tangled in his long, dark hair. Bucky’s tongue tastes like Natasha, and that alone nearly pushes Steve over the edge.

Bucky rolls his hips, moving in and out of her in slow, shallow strokes, the tip of him stroking persistently against the sensitive spot just inside her. Natasha’s panting and writhing between them, her hands curled around Steve’s thighs.

“S’good, Buck,” Steve slurs against his mouth, dreamy and dazed, “Can tell she likes it.”

Bucky looks at him, flashing a breathless smile, sweat beading on his forehead. He tells him, tells them both, how good _she_ is, too; how hot and slick, how snug and perfect she feels around him, until Steve fists his hair in his hand and pulls him up for another ruthless, bruising kiss.

Bucky breaks the kiss with a gasp, moaning incoherently about how close he is. “Mark her, Buck,” Steve growls deliriously, his hips bucking involuntarily against Natasha’s back, making her cry out, “Make her yours. _Ours_.”

Just the thought pulls a low whine out of the back of Bucky’s throat. He pulls out of her, taking himself, hard and glistening, in hand.

His forehead drops to Natasha’s shoulder and she turns her head, whispering a string of filthy encouragements into his ear. He groans as he comes, spilling hot against her stomach.

The three of them are still for a moment, panting together, alternately wound up and relieved. Bucky flops down on the bed beside them, limp and boneless, his spent erection softening against his thigh.

Natasha wastes no time, flipping to straddle Steve’s hips, taking his cock, painfully hard and red-tipped, and leading it inside her. She cries out as he fills her, just slightly larger than James, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Her soiled stomach sticks to his, and it makes him smile and flush. 

He tumbles her onto her back, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her arms over her head. The restraint, the feel of his heavy body pinning her to the mattress, makes her go weak and silly, already humming along the edge of her next orgasm. She knows he knows how to manage her, and she lets him, lets him rock his hips against hers, her thighs wrapped high and tight around his waist. 

He works himself against her, mouthing at her neck, hips churning against hers, until she’s frenzied and thrashing underneath him, cursing and sobbing his name. She comes with a sharp wail and he follows her, slamming against her in jerky, uneven thrusts. Steve falls over her, gasping for air as she struggles to come back to her senses.

Everything is still again for a long while. Natasha strokes the back of Steve’s head with one hand, her other hand stretching out to take James’. “And I _just_ showered,” she murmurs, trying to sound annoyed.

Bucky smiles and Steve chuckles against her shoulder. She’ll never fool them.


End file.
